Hurt
by Ben Barrett
Summary: Stan struggles with a bad drug addiction that threatens to destroy his marriage to Kyle. StanXKyle. Oneshot. Songfic. Contains SLASH.


**A Note From Ben: Those of you who follow my work know that I do NOT generally like songfics and I only have one to my name thus far. Hell, even that was a big joke. Still, when I listened to Johnny Cash doing a cover of _Hurt_ by Nine Inch Nails, I immediately began to obsess over what a great story it would make. I thought about working it into _What Does The Future Hold_, but it didn't fit into the plotline. Well, I finally caved in and wrote a serious songfic. I hope you guys enjoy it. It was a very difficult story to get down, to say the least. The end result is something I'd like to be proud of. Please let me know what you think if you happen to get a chance to do so. Thanks and enjoy!  
**

* * *

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Hurt_ by Nine Inch Nails, nor the cover version recorded by Johnny Cash, which is the one featured in this story.**

* * *

**Hurt**

Kyle dumped Stan after he found the needles. He had suspected for a long time that his boyfriend was on drugs, but had never been able to prove it, and had given him the benefit of the doubt. He loved Stan after all and didn't want to think of his best friend and lover shooting up. After he found the drug paraphernalia, however, he knew that his suspicions had been correct and that he could no longer trust him.

"Stan, I'm sorry," Kyle told Stan that night when he walked in the door looking strung-out.

"For what, Ky?"

Oh, that pet name; the one that, until recently, had melted Kyle like butter each time it was whispered. Damn him for using it!

"I'm sorry that…that we can't be together anymore."

To say Stan was shocked would be a serious understatement. He and Kyle had been steady since middle school. They had shared everything together, had done everything together, and had even given up their virginity to each other. To say that they were close to each other would be like saying that Cartman was a little on the pudgy side.

"Kyle…" Stan cried. "What did I do? What did I _DO_? _WHAT DID I DO_?"

Kyle felt himself losing it, and he knew he couldn't let that happen. He _had _to get through this.

"You…you stole money from me," he replied, "to buy drugs. You took money that you knew I was saving and you used it to….to get yourself a fix!"

"Ky…"

"Look at yourself," Kyle moaned, feeling hurt and heartbroken to see his lifelong friend in such a condition. His clothes were dirty, his face was unshaven, and his black hair was greasy and knotted. On top of that, there were track marks on his arms and a glazed-over look in his once-beautiful eyes.

Stan shuffled from foot to foot but could not take his eyes from the floor. Kyle had caught him and there was no way he could bring himself to look into those eyes; those big, wonderful eyes that he used to get lost in after their love making.

"Oh, God, Kyle," he said, bursting into tears, "I am so sorry."

"Get out."

"Wha----"

"OUT! OUT! OUT!"

_**I hurt myself today**_

_**To see if I still feel**_

_**I focus on the pain**_

_**The only thing that's real  
**_

Sharon and Randy Marsh agreed to let Stan move back into the house for a little while after he told them he'd had a "falling out" with Kyle. They knew that he was on drugs, and knew that he needed more help than it was in their power to give, but they couldn't turn their beloved son away. This pathetic creature he had become was not the Stan they remembered, not their pride and joy who had been a good student, a star athlete, and a good friend to anyone who ever knew him. Nobody had ever expected him to turn out like this.

Shortly after his arrival, they had sent him to get cleaned up, and then phoned Kyle. He told them to keep an eye on him and take care of him. Even after all this, he still loved Stan more than words could express and wanted him to get better as badly as they did.

"I'm so scared for him," he said.

"We are too, Kyle," Sharon replied.

"I'm sorry I threw him out like that," Kyle explained, sobbing heavily, "I just didn't know what else to do. I…couldn't take it anymore."

"I know," she replied, "and we don't blame you. He more help than any of us can give."

Two days later, Stan was sitting in the basement, feeling sorry for himself and cutting himself with a razor blade. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but not as badly as losing Kyle had hurt him. He only did this to assure himself that he could still feel anything at all. Since he had lost the love of his life, he felt cold and empty inside, as though he was already dead.

"Kyle," he moaned, "Kyle I'm sorry."

Meanwhile, Kyle was beside himself as well. He couldn't believe that things had come to this. When they first got together, they promised that they'd never hurt each other, that they would always be honest and faithful, and that they'd love each other till the day they died. Now, the Stan he had fallen in love with was gone, replaced by some lying, deceitful, worthless junkie. That hurt him more than anything else.

He blamed himself at times for Stan's problem. Perhaps if he had been more loving toward him, more understanding, then things wouldn't have turned out this way. His mother always told him that such thoughts were ridiculous and that he had loved and supported Stan a lot more than he was giving himself credit for.

_But if that's true, _he thought, _why did he do it? Why did he turn to the needle?_

He put his head in his arms and started crying for what seemed like the thousandth time.

_**The needle tears a hole**_

_**The old familiar sting**_

_**Try to kill it all away**_

_**But I remember everything**_

"Oh, my God! Stan!" Sharon screamed, running into the basement.

Her son was bleeding profusely from several long gashes up and down his arms. He had lost a lot of blood and was lying unconscious in a pool of it on the floor. She ran to him and checked his pulse, and found that though he was alive, he probably wouldn't be for much longer.

"No!" she screamed. "Why did you do this?"

She ran upstairs yelling for Randy to call an ambulance. She grabbed the first aid kit and was about to dash back down to her son when Randy came into the room, wanting to know what the hell she was screaming about.

"It's Stan!" she wailed. "He's cut himself badly. Call an ambulance _NOW_!"

She disappeared through the basement door as Randy called for emergency help. He told them it was a suicide attempt, not realizing that his son had never intended to kill himself. Next, he called Kyle who, though upset enough already, had a right to know what was going on.

"Kyle, it's Randy," he said.

"Mr. Marsh!" he cries, knowing right away that something is not right. "What's wrong? What's happened?"

"Stan tried to kill himself."

* * *

Kyle looked at his oldest friend, who was lying on a hospital bed with bandages wrapped around his arm. He knew that Stan was in bad shape, but he never knew it was _this _bad. He had never thought once, in all the years they had been together, that Stan would actually try to kill himself. 

"Why, Stan?" he asked. "Why did you do this?"

His husband said nothing, nor was there any indication that he had heard Kyle at all.

_**What have I become**_

_**My sweetest friend**_

"I'm afraid this is quite serious," the doctor said. "We simply do not allow those who attempt suicide to walk out. When he wakes up, he'll be required to undergo psychiatric evaluation."

Sharon, Randy, and Kyle were all sitting in the man's private office, discussing Stan's condition. Though they thought that he'd wake up and suffer no real damage other than some scarring on his arm, they considered him to be a threat to himself. This outraged Kyle, who had known Stan all his life and had never known him to attempt such an act before.

"This is complete bullshit!" Kyle screamed. "My Stan would never try to hurt himself. There's got to be some other explanation."

"Mr. Brovlofski…"

"No! I want to take him home!"

The doctor sighed and leaned back in his chair. He began massaging his temples with his fingers, as if talking with them was giving him a headache.

"After a twenty-four hour evaluation, if he's not a threat to himself, you can take him home."

* * *

Stan's stay in the hospital was like hell to him. He hadn't had a fix in almost a day and knew he wasn't going to get one, yet the doctors refused to let him leave. Kyle chose to stay by his side through the whole ordeal, which was the only thing that kept him going. He felt that if his beloved hadn't been there he would have lost his mind. 

"We can get through this together, Stan," Kyle encouraged him. "We can get you out of this hospital and you can come home."

He found little comfort in Kyle's words. He knew that "home" did not mean the home they had built together. It meant the bedroom in the basement of the house he grew up in. His beloved wasn't going to let him come home, ever.

"I love you, Stan," he whispered in his ear. "I still love you. Please fight for me."

This caused Stan to break down. He knew that his lifestyle was hurting his lover so bad, but there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't stop using, couldn't stop shooting up. He was a lost cause and Kyle needed to forget about him and leave him to die, and he told him so.

"You're not a lost cause," Kyle said, taking him by the hand, "and I'm not leaving you alone to die."

_**Everyone I know**_

_**Goes away in the end**_

After his release, Stan seemed to be doing better. He didn't spend any money on his cocaine and actually looked less like a walking corpse. Kyle felt so proud of him; he almost considered calling the Marsh residence and asking him to come home. He nearly did, but stopped himself on a hunch.

_Give it a week, _he told himself, _and see what he does._

So he stopped himself from inviting his beloved home, even though their bed was so cold and empty at night without him. He felt absolutely alone without Stan, yet he knew that if he let him come home now and he went through a relapse, things would be worse than they were before.

"One week," he said out loud to nobody at all.

In the end, that proved to be the wisest decision. Stan lasted two days before he began to get restless and irritable. After three, he was walking by the pusher's house, thinking how nice it would be to go in and just get himself a small fix. After four, he was no longer thinking about it; he was stoned again.

When Kyle found out that Stan was shooting up again after all that they went through at that god damned hospital, he finally snapped. He had taken all that he could take and he wasn't going to deal with it anymore. He went down to the courthouse that very afternoon and filed for a divorce.

_**And you could have it all**_

_**My empire of dirt**_

When Stan found out what Kyle had done, he paid him a little visit. He banged on the door until his soon-to-be ex-husband opened it with an irritated and sour look.

"What do you want, Stan?" Kyle asked.

"I…I want you to stop this whole divorce thing," Stan replied, running a hand through his hair. "I…don't want to lose you."

"Stan…."

"Please, Ky. Just talk to me for a second."

Kyle looked at him for a second before nodding and opening the door wide enough to permit him into the house. He beckoned for Stan to follow and walked to the dining room table, where he had spent so many hours crying the last couple of weeks. He sat down and motioned for his former lover to do the same.

"What do you want to say, Stan?"

"That I…love you….and I want to change…for you…."

Kyle wanted to believe these words so badly that it actually hurt him not to. Still, he knew Stan better than this, and knew that he was not going to change any time soon.

"I'm sorry, Stan," Kyle said, "but I don't believe you. I…_can't_ believe you anymore."

Stan got angry at these words. There was such rage in his eyes that Kyle actually felt afraid of his husband for the first time in his life. Oh, God, was that true? Had they really gone so far downhill that he was afraid of the person who meant the most to him?

"What do you want from me, Kyle?" Stan cried, bringing his fist down on the table with a bang. "I'd give you everything. EVERYTHING! There's nothing I wouldn't give for you. I'd move heaven and earth for you or go through hell itself to be with you."

Kyle felt his composure slipping away again. He wanted so badly to run to Stan, to take him in his arms and tell him that it would all be okay, but he couldn't do that. He knew it would _never _be okay, not as long as he was shooting up.

"I still don't believe you," he said. "You had a chance to show me how much you care when you got out of the hospital. You chose the drugs over me and only succeeded in proving who you really love."

_**I will let you down**_

_**I will make you hurt**_

Kyle managed to hold himself together until he had forced Stan out of the house, then collapsed in front of the door, sobbing. Stan was still standing on the front stoop and could hear his wails and cries. This broke Stan's heart into a thousand pieces, for he knew he was responsible for it.

"I'm sorry, Kyle," he said softly before walking away, tears running down his face.

When he got home, he found his bags packed and waiting for him. His mother and father were standing there in the living room, looking absolutely furious with him. They told him that, though they cared for him a great deal, they couldn't help someone who wasn't willing to help themselves.

"We don't care where you go," Randy said, "but don't come back here."

"I'm sorry, Stanley," Sharon said, "but this has gone on long enough."

"No, please!" he cried. "What if I checked into rehab or…"

"No," his father said sternly. "If you're going to check yourself into rehab, then do it. You don't have to live here to do that, and you _can't_. I…won't allow your lifestyle in my house."

So it was that Stan found himself a homeless junkie, the one thing that he'd sworn never to become. He remembered as a child how the homeless used to drift occasionally through South Park, seeking spare change or their next fix, and how he and his friends would look past them as if they weren't there. Well, they'd look past them if they weren't doing something awful to them, like having Cartman jump his skateboard over them.

It suddenly hit him as he thought about his childhood that he had other friends, like Kenny and Butters, who might be able to help. He might not have to be homeless after all.

_**I wear this crown of thorns**_

_**Upon my liar's chair**_

_**Full of broken thoughts**_

_**I cannot repair**_

"No," Kenny told him when he came over.

"But Kenny…"

"No, Stan," his friend said angrily, "It's called 'enabling', and I'm not going to do it. I'm not going to support your habit and I'm not going to enable you."

Stan couldn't believe his ears. Didn't one person in the world care about him? Were they all going to leave him to die?

"Kenny," he said, "I don't know what to do. I've lost my home, my friends, my marriage. I'm lost and I feel helpless. _Please_, tell me what to do!"

Kenny sighed and got up off his couch. He walked over to a big desk in the corner of his apartment and opened up one of the drawers. After rifling through some papers, he returned with a pamphlet and handed it to Stan.

"This program helped my father beat his drinking problem," he explained. "Maybe it could help you."

Stan looked at the cover. There was a black and white picture of a man sitting against a pure black background, looking absolutely miserable. Superimposed over this picture were the words "SO YOUR LIFE'S GONE TO HELL".

"This program can help?" Stan asked.

"Yes," Kenny replied.

"What about….Kyle?"

Kenny had known this question was coming, yet he still wasn't prepared to answer it. How do you tell your friend that their marriage is damaged beyond all hope of reconciliation? How do you tell someone you care about that the one they love doesn't want to love _them_ anymore?

"Just give him some time," Kenny said finally, "and see what happens. Check yourself into the program, show him that you're really trying, and give him a reason to support you."

Stan nodded. That made so much sense. He'd put himself into rehab, kick this habit, and show Kyle just how much he truly loved him.

_**Beneath the stains of time**_

_**The feelings disappear**_

Stan checked himself into the program the next day. When asked why he wanted to join, he told the counselors that his habit had cost him more than he could bear, that his family had shunned him and his husband refused to have anything to do with him. He told them how fed up he was with his lifestyle and that all he wanted was Kyle back by his side.

The first week was the hardest for him. The withdrawal made him feel like he was going to go insane, but he kept his mind focused on all that he had lost. He had to do it for himself, yes, but he also had to do it for Kyle, who meant everything to him. He couldn't lose him. He might be okay if he lost everything else, but not if he lost Kyle.

"I'm really trying, Ky," he said when he called him two weeks in. "I really want to get better."

"That's good, Stan," came the reply, "I'm rooting for you."

"And I was thinking," Stan said hopefully, "that once this is all over, we could start patching things up. I…want to be the husband I used to be."

There was silence on the line for what seemed like an eternity before Kyle finally spoke again.

"Sure, Stan," he said half-heartedly, "whatever you say."

_**You are someone else**_

_**I am still right here **_

Kyle was crushed when he heard Stan ask for another chance, for he knew that he still hadn't gotten it. It was _over_. He wasn't going to take Stan back, not again. His trust, as well as his hopes and dreams, had all been shattered, and he was too hurt to try and "patch things up". Still, he didn't think it wise to express this; Stan was doing so well, he didn't want to say something that might make him lose focus.

He looked around at the boxes stacked all over the house. Most of his possessions were packed. Those things that belonged to Stan had been taken to the Marsh residence, where they'd be waiting for him when he got out. Kyle simply could not live here anymore, where there were so many memories of his happy marriage, which was now in pieces. Everywhere he looked, he was reminded of something beautiful that no longer existed.

Kyle thought back on their first night in their home. They had been so excited to have a place of their own that was bought and paid for_  
_

* * *

_"No, no," Stan said as he opened the door, "you can't go in yet, Kyle."_

_"Why not?" he responded, giving him his best pout._

_"Because I have to carry you over the threshold."_

_Kyle giggled like a child at this. Oh, that old romantic bastard! He could be so damn charming when he wanted to be. He let out a cry of surprise as he was hoisted off his feet and carried through the door for the first time._

_"I love you, Kyle," Stan said, looking deeply into his eyes._

_They kissed passionately before Stan carried him up the stairs to what would someday be their bedroom. The bed wasn't yet assembled, but the mattress was lying there in the middle of the floor, so they made love on it._

_"God, Stan," Kyle moaned as Stan pushed into him again and again, "yes!"_

_"Uuungh," was the only reply his lover could give._

_They both came at the same moment and moaned each other's names in ecstasy. When it was all over, Stan held him and declared his undying love once more._

* * *

Kyle suddenly couldn't take any more. He picked up a glass vase off a nearby table and hurled it at the wall, where it shattered into as many pieces as his heart. He grabbed his car keys and fled, not wanting to spend one more second in this place. 

_**What have I become**_

_**My sweetest friend**_

_**Everyone I know**_

_**Goes away in the end**_

Stan was released from rehab one month later and was joyfully welcomed back by his parents, who were so ecstatic that they completely forgot their previous command that he never return. He laughed and joked with them on the car ride back to South Park and told them about people he had met in the program.

His happiness was short-lived, however, for as soon as he got home he found the boxes full of his personal possessions. Demanding to know what the hell was going on, he was soon informed of Kyle's decision to sell their house and move on.

"Where is he?" Stan cried. "Where did he go?"

"We…we don't know, Stan," Sharon said. "He never called us again after you entered rehab. We saw him every now and then, but…"

Stan stopped listening and tore out of the house, running toward the home he had once shared with Kyle. No, it couldn't be true. He'd get there and find Kyle waiting for him with a big smile. He'd tell him how proud he was of him and then they'd go upstairs and make love. This whole divorce thing would be forgotten.

But, of course, that wasn't true; when he reached the house, he saw a big FOR SALE sign on the lawn. He ran up and beat on the door, but nobody answered. He began pounding on it harder and harder, screaming for Kyle to quit playing around and come out. When he still got no response, he went to one of the windows and peered in. The truth finally hit home when he saw the empty space that had once been their living room and he sank to his knees in tears.

"No, Kyle!" he cried to the sky. "Please!"

_**And you could have it all**_

_**My empire of dirt**_

He lay in bed that night, completely inconsolable. Kyle was really gone. He'd sold their house and left South Park without a word to him or anyone else. He didn't understand; hadn't he cleaned himself up and proved to his beloved who he really loved? Wasn't that enough?

_What do you want from me, Kyle? I'd give you everything. EVERYTHING! There's nothing I wouldn't give for you. I'd move heaven and earth for you or go through hell itself to be with you._

_I still don't believe you. You had a chance to show me how much you care when you got out of the hospital._

The last conversation he'd ever had with Kyle in person suddenly came back to him. Kyle had been right all along, of course. If he had just checked himself into rehab after he'd gotten out of the hospital, he'd still have his marriage and he wouldn't be lying here, wondering who was holding his lover tonight.

_I bet it's that fucking Christophe,_ he thought bitterly. _Fucking French piece of shit! He'll never be able to make you moan like I did, Kyle. He'll never _love _you like I did._

_**I will let you down**_

_**I will make you hurt**_

Kyle was not with Christophe that night, however. He was alone in a small apartment in Conifer, thinking about Stan. How he wished things could have been different, but he had been hurt too badly to go through any more. He would always love him, but he couldn't stand to be with him anymore. There was just too much bitterness there.

_Ironic, really, _he thought to himself, _that we split up after he stole that money from me. We're getting divorced now, and that money was for an anniversary present for _him.

This thought upset him greatly and he got out of bed. He couldn't sleep, and he was tired of trying. He walked to his bedroom window and looked out at the stars shining brightly from the heavens. Somewhere in South Park tonight, a clean and reformed Stan Marsh was probably wondering just who the hell he was with.

"You never liked Christophe," he said to the night. "You're probably beside yourself thinking I'm in bed with him. Silly Stan; you know you're the only one who could ever make me squirm. You're the only one who can drive me crazy simply by whispering into my ear. I…I'll never love another, Stan."

He stared out at the stars that night until they began to disappear. As the sun began to peak over the horizon, he said a prayer for his ex-husband and returned to his bed.

_**If I could start again**_

_**A million miles away**_

_**I would keep myself**_

_**I would find a way**_

Stan stayed clean after that. He began traveling from town to town, talking to kids in schools about the effects of drug use. His story of losing his life-long best friend and his husband would usually get their attention. Often, there was complete silence as he spoke, followed by what always seemed like a thousand questions, which he was more than happy to answer every time.

He had found a purpose. He had gotten a second chance. Sure, Kyle was no longer by his side, but he thought that if he could keep it from happening to someone else, maybe he could eventually find complete redemption. Maybe if he talked to enough kids, changed enough lives, and kept on with his crusade, the Powers That Be would take pity upon him and reunite him with the one he still loved.

_Maybe today's the day,_ he told himself every morning, _maybe today it will finally happen._

He never saw Kyle again.


End file.
